Like Brothers
by Agent-Smith.exe
Summary: In an earlier version of the Matrix the Agents were very different programs. They were more like brothers than sentient programs designed to keep order in the Matrix.
1. Chapter 1

A dozen men walked through a dark tunnel, it contained iron bars and several smaller tunnels which lead to wooden doors. It appeared to be a dungeon. Its tunnels seemed endless as they contained many corridors.

The channel that they walked through was the shape of an arc. Several short torches were attached to the dirty, black walls.

They dragged along 5 prisoners who were all wearing matching suits, sunglasses and earpieces that had a coiled wire. The captives looked almost identical.

Everything that they wore was black, except from their shirts which were a pure shade of white.

A silver, rectangular shaped tie-clip was attached to each one of the ties that Agent's owned. They all had a very professional look.

"Who do we have here." Laughed the Merovingian as he approached them, the trenchcoat that he wore reached all the way down to his knees.

He was wearing an illuminous red coloured shirt with a matching tie. His hair was black and very short and he spoke with a thick French accent.

"What do you want from us?" Asked Agent Jones as he fought against a guard. He was a fairy tall and broad man possibly over 50. The Agent's hair was a light shade of brown but his eyes were not visible since they were obscured by his black, square-shaped sunglasses.

"I needed to get rid of you, Agents. You would cause far too much trouble for my plan."

"Sir! Sir! One of them is missing." A young guards spoke up, he wore a silk jacket, black trousers and sunglasses.

Smith... Smith wasn't there, he must have gotten away before they entered the Chateau.

"Okay" Said the Merovingian, a little more impatiently now. "Take these men to their cell and go and find the sixth one. Au revoir" Then he left and went up a flight of stairs which lead back to his mansion.

As their leader left, the men escorted the Agents to their cell. It was a fairly big room and was extremely cold, dark and dusty. It was made from stone and there were numerous iron chains hanging from the ceiling and walls. Except from that, the cell was utterly empty.

They could almost taste the smoke that was contained within the room but it didn't bother them.

"You shall remain here until the Merovingian says otherwise." a warden told them, he chained the sentient programs to the wall. Once their dirty work was done the men left, leaving the beaten up Agents alone in their cell.

"How are we going to get out?" asked Brown.

"We will stay here and await Smith." Replied Johnson, he knew that Smith was the only one who could get them out.

Since this was a much earlier version of the Matrix, the Agents were no where near as powerful as they are in the future.

They were very different programs altogether.

Agents didn't require the ability to posses the bodies of blue pills nor have super human strength or speed. The Seraphims were the ones who enforced order in the Matrix, the Agents were just beta programs.

Agents were often jealous of the Seraphims as they had beautiful, white, feathered wings and could fly for long distance.

Like the humans, many programs also dreamed of being able to fly... Maybe in the future they would be able to achieve that goal.

They sat for a few moments in silence but it was broken by a big crash followed by someone running down the cellar stairs, the same ones that the Merovingian used to evacuate the dungeon.

Cautiously, all eyes turned towards the door.

Suddenly they head a man wailing, probably from pain. Then the wails turned to agonizing screams until there was a loud thump and the screaming stopped. All they heard after that were faint footsteps but soon they too faded away.


	2. Chapter 2

They remained there for several days but it felt like much longer, they could have been imprisoned for weeks, month or even years. The programs almost lost their concept of time but one thing was certain... They were in there for far too long.

Johnson started wrestling with the chains but it was no use.

If only he was strong. "Why didn't the Architect consider this? He thought aloud, he was clearly irritated.

"About what?" Asked Jackson, the young Agent hadn't said much ever since they arrived here.

"Why didn't the Architect make us more powerful?"

He continued fighting against the chains but eventually surrendered and his hands fell to the floor. The iron chains made a slight clattering noise as they hit the ground.

They sat in silence until Johnson spoke again. "The only way out is through that door but as we all know, the Merovingian's men are not required to enter this room." Johnson continued as he nodded at the only door in the room.

There were no windows or even bars, just thick, black walls and an old wooden door that had a rusty, metal lock. They assumed that this room was underground.

The Merovingian's men never entered their cell. Which inevitably, made their chances of escape even smaller.

If the Agents were humans then the henchmen would need to enter their prison cell daily but programs didn't require food, water or sleep. They only ever did those functions to appear more human, to maintain order in the Matrix, to keep humans under control.

The Merovingian was one of the only programs who regularly ate meals and drank his expensive, French red wine.

The Agents hardly ever ate anything, the only reason why they ever did was when they were with human company for extensive amounts of time.

Agents never understood what pleasure a program found in consuming food. It was an unnecessary process, humans were the only creatures in the Matrix that needed food to survive.

If they knew the truth about this world then they wouldn't need to consume nutrients either.

The silence was once again broken by another being running down the stairs.

Whatever it was, it was heading towards the door of their cell.

"Smith." Was all that Johnson could say.

"Could it be?" Replied Jones, he glanced at Johnson and then, along with the other Agents, focused on the door.

The door swung open and slamed against the wall, the figure stood in the doorway.

It was hard to make out who it was since the men's eyes were still adjusting to the intense amount of light that was shining in from the corridor.

"Come, there is no time."

The voice did not sound familiar.


	3. Chapter 3

Warning: this chapter contains a violent and detailed death scene.

It was not Smith.

The figure stepped in. It was Seraph, leader of the Seraphims.

The 5 Agents looked at him in awe, he had beautiful, white, feathered wings. Like angels in human stories. He grabbed each of the Agent's chains and smashed each one with a blow from his fist.

All the Agents stood up and Thompson gently massaged his writs. "Thank you." He said.

"Where is Smith?" Asked Johnson in an uncomfortable and suspicious tone. Maybe this Seraphim had something to do with the disappearance of their leader.

"You friend is in trouble, the Oracle told me to help you find him." Explained Seraph as he walked towards the already opened door.

Johnson was about to reply but Jackson nudged him with his elbow to make him shut up. There was no questioning the Seraphim or the Oracle since they both had authority. More authority than any of the Agents, including Smith.

They headed out of the dark room but they were soon accompanied by the henchmen. The men in white, silk jackets loaded their guns but Seraph fly kicked oen of them in the face and he went flying into the wall.

Soon a fight broke out. It was very chaotic. All the programs and exiles alike were using a combination of martial art moves and gunfire, they had skills that no human except the One himself could master. Everyone was so absorbed in their own one on one fight with a henchman, that nobody noticed the cocked gun aimed at Johnson's chest.

The man pulled the trigger and the bullet lodged into his chest. Jackson stood motionless for a few seconds. The pain was extremely sharp, almost unbearable.

He felt weak and fell to his knees. There was a sharp pain in both of his kneecaps as they collided with the hard floor but it was nothing compared to the bullet wound that pierced the right side of his chest.

The young program started into the distance, trying to focus his eyes again as his field of view was already starting to become blurry. He ignored the battle that was going on around him.

The world seemed to be in slow motion.

His breathing was speeding up and it was very shallow, he tried to control it but he couldn't. He was gasping for air and felt very light headed.

Still staring into the distance, the Agent placed the palm of his left hand on the bullet wound. Slowly, he moved his hand until it was it was about 40cm away from his face. His trembling hand was covered in fresh blood.

He glanced at his blood stained shirt but lost his balance and collapsed onto the floor.

His weak, clumsy hands tried to break the fall but his face smashed of the ground, causing his nose to bleed. He propped himself up on his elbows and once again looked up. The man who had just shot him had an evil grin on his face.

He loaded his gun again.

Before he could shoot, Johnson slammed into him and he dropped his weapon to the floor. The Agent was furious with this program, he had just shot his colleague.

The 2 Agents had worked together for as long as they could remember. Ever since they were written, they had been side by side.

Jackson couldn't die.

The enraged Agent continued hitting the man like a punching bag. The exiled program was very bruised and eventually collapsed from the extreme agony that he was feeling.

Once Johnson was finished with one, he tackled another.

Thompson soon realized the situation and ran to Jackson's aid. He put the young man's arm around his shoulder and slowly lifted him up. The battered Agent was barely conscious and had a nose bleed from where his face smashed of the hard, stone floor.

After Johnson had killed his third henchman, he rushed to help Thompson who had already started removing Jackson from the battle field.

"Seraph, Jones, Brown deal with the henchmen! Thompson! Let's get Jackson out of here." He commanded over the loud noise.

Although Johnson was generally the one in charge when Smith was absent, Seraphims had their own way of doing things.

Johnson looked at the winged man with a questioning look but he nodded in approval.

Johnson put Jackson's free arm around his shoulder and along with Thompson half carried, half dragged him up the stairs. Jackson was clumsily limping along.

Miraculously, they had gotten out of the huge mansion without attracting any attention. The Merovingian was probably in one of the rooms inside Chateau. There were probably hundreds of rooms in that building, it was about the size of an average castle, if not larger.

They were walking through an empty field. The Chateau was visible in the distance and the sun was setting over the snow covered montains. The scenery was beautiful.

All of a sudden Jackson collapsed in their arms, the 2 Sentient programs almost lost their balance but managed to lift him up. Thompson placed the dying Agent into Johnson's arms.

"I... can't go... any further." His voice was very weak, he could hardly speak.

Johnson took a deep breath and nodded at Thompson, he moved his eyes towards the shirt and then looked back at the confused Agent. Implying that he wanted to have a look at the bullet wound.

Thompson immediately reacted and undid the top 4 buttons on the Agent's shirt. He gently grabbed the edge of his shirt and moved it aside to reveal the deep, blood covered wound on his chest.

The program ran his soft fingers along Jackson's chest which caused him to writhe in pain, so he stopped immediately.

Thompson looked at the blood on his fingers, the it was still fresh. The bleeding didn't stop yet. He moved his fingers closer to Johnson so that he could asses the seriousness of the injury. The situation didn't look good.

Johnson removed his sunglasses and put them into his blazer pocket and placed his hand back onto his co-worker's back to make sure that he didn't fall to the floor.

Jackson's feet lost grip of the floor which caused him to topple backwards but Johnson caught him again. He assesed that it would probably be best to place the dying man onto the ground, so he lowered him down with extreme precision and care, making sure that the sentient program doesn't fall.

Johnson kneeled next to him and Thompson towered above them both.

The broken Agent looked down at his half concious companion, his arm reached out and he removed Jackson's sunglasses and placed them onto the grassy soil.

"Jackson..." said the desperate man in a quavering voice. He was trying to prepare himself for the inevitable death of his friend, he tried not to cry but his eyes were already welling up with tears. He tried to blink them away.

Thompson didn't look very sympathetic but he never was, he always had a blank expression on his face but it didn't bother Johnson at all.

"I..." He finally continued, Jackson tilted his head slightly so that he faced him. By the expression on his face Johnson could tell that he wanted to leave this world, he looked exhausted and in pain. He wasn't battling with death anymore but instead started to accept it as an end to suffering and all the troubles of this world.

"I want to thank you... for... for..." Johnson tried to talk but the urge was far too strong. He started sobbing umcontrollably.

"For always... being there for me." It was hard to make out what he was saying. Jackson was clearly upset, he was also sad about parting with his closest friend and seeing him like this will make it even harder.

"Everything." He finally managed to finish his sentence. He swallowed with difficulty and prepared himself to say another sentence but as he glanced at his fallen companion he realised that...

He was no longer breathing.

Johnson grasped Jackson's hand and placed his trembling fingers on the Agent's wrist.

He was gone.

Thompson moved closer and placed his hand firmly on Johnson's shoulder, he was shaking terribly.

They stayed in that position for several minutes, nobody said a word until Seraph approached them along with the 2 other Agents.

"We managed to... umm." Once he noticed the deceased Agent lying on his back he was lost for words. Johnson turned to look at him, he had clearly been crying since his face was bright red but now he was completely silent. His grip on Jackson's wrist was still very strong and Thompson still had hold of his shoulder.

Jones approached him and held out his hand, Johnson accepted the offer, grabbed it and lifted himself up. He placed Jackson's sunglasses into a spare pocket.

"We need to see the Oracle." Said Seraph, he tried not to be rude but they had wasted too much time already.

Smith was in trouble.


	4. Chapter 4

They continued walking downhill, it was dark now but they didn't need sleep. Unlike humans, programs could walk for hours on end without feeling any fatigue at all.

"Do you know the way" Asked Brown as he picked up his pace and walked beside Seraph. The Seraphim turned his head to face him. The winged man nodded. He was tall but lean.

Brown was the smallest of the 4 Agents but he was still taller than Seraph. The other 3 were a similar height.

Nothing was visible, only the stars. It was a beautiful, clear night. The milky way shone above them along with hundreds of meteors.

After a few hours later they reached a small village, it probably had less than 300 inhabitants. Seraph thought that it would be reasonable to take the bus, the journey would be a lot faster that way.

He approached the large piece paper that, along with several smaller notices, was held within a wide cabinet made of plastic. The program carefully studied the huge sheet. "What time is it?" He asked, not taking his focus off the list.

Jones placed 2 of his fingers onto his earpiece and contacted the mainframe. "Three fifteen." Replied the Agent.

"Ok... Next bus at... Four."

It started to rain but the programs didn't mind. There was no shelter at the bus stop.

Minutes passed and the rainfall increased, the Agent's suits were completely wet and so was Seraph's jacket.

A man came towards them. He was wearing a thick raincoat and stood next to them at the bus stop. "Horrible weather tonight." He said, all the programs faced him but their faces were expressionless. The man waited for a reply but he realized that he probably wouldn't get one.

"Aren't you guys freezing in a suit?" He continued, the 5 sentient programs still looked at him blankly until Jones spoke up "No." Said the Agent plainly.

The human didn't know what to say but he was curious as to why one of them was wearing angel wings.

"So... Why are you wearing... angel wings? The Agents were annoyed at the man's attempt to engage in small talk.

"We're going to a carnival." Lied Thompson. The man slowly nodded, it was hard to believe that these men were going to a carnival at 3 in the morning.

"Where's the carnival?" He asked. Thompson and Jones sighed in unison but they were saved from the man's deadly conversation by their bus arriving.

The Agents along with Seraph stepped onto the bus one by one. "Bye." Said the man in a small voice. Thompson was the last to get on but before he did so he looked him up and down and a small smile appeared on his face. The man smiled back and Thompson boarded the bus.

The vehicle was virtually empty. A few people were randomly scattered around, most of them leaning on windows, probably sleeping. They passed a woman, who was curled up in a lime green blanket, occupying 2 seats.

Jones and Brown immediately sat down and fell asleep. Although they didn't need sleep, it doesn't mean that they never slept. They may as well act human since it would be rather strange to see a group of men wide awake at 4 in the morning.

Thompson found a seat at the very back and Johnson sat alone an stared out of the window. "You miss him, don't you." Seraph sat beside him but the Agent didn't react, he continued staring into the distance. "How do you know?" He finally asked. "I may be a program but I can tell when someone is genuinely upset." Replied Seraph half jokingly, he knew that claiming to be a program wouldn't make the humans suspicious. They were all half asleep and wouldn't take them seriously anyway.

"Get some sleep." Said Seraph as he moved away from Johnson and started walking towards an empty row of seats. Johnson looked confused, he didn't understand why he was supposed to sleep. He was a program.

It was all made clear when Seraph gave him the very familiar you-are-supposed-to-act-human face. So Johnson thought it would be best if he caught some z's.

The Agent awoke at around 7:24, he knew this because there was a huge digital clock at the front of the bus, just above the driver's seat. He looked across at Jones and Brown who were using each other as pillows. Thompson was leaning against a window, probably sleeping too.

Seraph was sat close to the back but he wasn't snoozing, he was looking around. Probably trying to figure out where he was and wondering whether he slept for too long and missed their stop. Johnson decided to keep him company so he got out of his seat and strolled towards the winged program.

"Do you know where we are?" Asked Seraph, he didn't look tired, he probably woke up a while ago but Johnson was still recovering. "Yes." He pressed his fingers against his earpiece again. "Our stop is in 47 minutes." Good thing they didn't pass their destination.

"We will find Smith, we can't loose him." Said Johnson, he wasn't sure whether he said it to Seraph or to himself but he knew for certain that he couldn't afford to loose another companion.

He didn't understand why the Architect made them feel emotions like humans, especially pain like this. It hurt like hell.

Maybe it was a good thing. Since Agents had an attachment to others with similar programming, it made them do everything to make sure that their colleagues were alive and well. It worked in a similar way to a human emotion; love.

Usually felt by people in a relationship and between family members or friends. It was this emotion that made humans feel sad when their partner, family or friend wasn't there.

Most of all it made them appear human which is always the Architect's priority.

Johnson's deep thoughts were interrupted by Seraph. "We will, don't worry."

Finally the 5 programs arrived at their destination. Seraph, Jones, Brown and Johnson walked across the narrow passage in between the bus seats, Thompson was still sleeping so Johnson grabbed his shoulder and shook him violently, he awoke immediately and followed them out of the large vehicle.

Seraph lead the Agents to the Oracle's block of flats, 3 of the Agents walked in a group and Johnson followed closely behind. The building was ancient and the dark green walls needed a fresh coat of paint about a decade ago. The plastic that covered the fluorescent light bulb had turned a pale shade of yellow and needed replacing. There was a lot of graffiti.

They entered the elevator, which was also very old and noisy. It took them up to level 10, where the Oracle lived. They approached the Oracle's room, the winged program opened the door to let the men in and closed the door securely behind them.

The Oracle was obviously in the kitchen, baking cookies in her orange, flower covered apron. "I'll be with you in just a minute ." She said as she placed a tray of cookies into the oven.

"Great to see you." She said as she wiped her hands with a cloth.

"Where's Smith?" Demanded Johnson, he didn't want any morals or riddles. He wanted to get to the point.

The Oracle remained calm but it was clear that Johnson was angry, his hands were clenched into tight fists and his face had a bitter expression. He looked like he would explode with rage at any moment.

The Oracle knew what he had been through and it was clearly too much for his elaborate programming to handle, it would be best if she was brief.

"Smith is held captive by the Merovingian." She finally said.

"I knew it!" Yelled Johnson, he knew that that filthy program had something to do with Smith disappearing.

"You should negotiate with the Merovingian." She continued.

"The Merovingian won't give him up easily." Johnson said almost immediately. "We should take guns." "Are you sure about that, Johnson?" "Yes." As he said that they started exiting the kitchen.

"Seraph". The Oracle said his name just before he left the room. "You will need these." She added.

The old program reached into her pocket and produced 3 keys, she placed into his hand. They were joined together by a short chain.

They keys were for the back doors; doors that could lead you to any place within the Matrix.

He studied them for a moment. "Thank you." Replied the Seraphim as he turned around and followed his teammates.


End file.
